The Strange Case of Frank Norton
by Resprom
Summary: Batman is faced with a bizarre case, that has him seeking the help of others. The impromptu team embarks on a journey to an unkown place, that puts under question much more than simply their abilities.
1. Chapter 1

**The Strange Case of Frank Norton**

 **Author's note:** I don't own anything in this story, except for the general plot.

 **Chapter 1**

As far as nights in Gotham went, this one was turning out pretty ordinary. Petty thieves were breaking and entering, smugglers were counting money in smoke-filled basements … Batman had just managed to pin the Joker against a scaffolding on a roof.

"You are not going to give up easily, are you," grumbled the hero.

"You're a fine one to talk, considering you've been hounding me like a terrier," came the mocking reply.

Caught as he was, the Joker looked straight into his captor's eyes and promptly kicked him.

Now, Batman had on his standard armored suit. That included protection in the groin area. However, even with padding like that, a hard knee to the family jewels was still surprising and a rather unpleasant affair. Unfortunately, it also gave the Joker an opening to exploit and manage to slip away. In the scuffle, Batman felt something pull from his side.

When he'd righted himself, the dark knight saw two things: the Joker standing near the edge of the roof, grinning like a madcap … and his grappling gun in the hand of the villain.

"Sly fingers," the Joker said, wiggling said appendages. "Oooh, I've always wanted one of these! Let's see how she runs."

He pointed the gun to the nearby building, fired it and jumped with a howl of maniacal laughter. Murmuring vile curses under his breath, Batman made to follow. After all, his cloak had served as a glider on more than one occasion.

It wasn't difficult to locate where the mad bastard had landed – a balcony window stood broken. The bat came down on the balcony and started towards the interior of the building. The lights were on, and he could clearly see the Joker standing inside waiting … and pointing the grappling hook in his direction. The weapon wasn't deadly by itself, but who knew what the madman had in mind for it.

"Now let's see if I can…."

"Ahem," someone coughed.

Both hero and villain whirled around. Apparently the room had already been occupied before their arrival. A man stood at the far end, to the left of Batman.

He was a tall, unremarkable fellow, with grayish hair. The living room (for what else could it be with the sofa and armchair combo, paintings on the walls and a chandelier) was unremarkable too, for the most part. The man was standing before a very large stereo console and holding a vinyl record.

The Joker, ever the observant one, asked, "Oh, is that _The Dark Side of the Moon_?"

The man nodded.

"Goody. I haven't listened to that one since I was a teenager. C'mon Bats!"

He made his way to a large sofa and plonked down.

The man looked at him, shrugged and turned around to load the record onto the player. The Joker was patting the seat next to him in an inviting manner. The situation was absurd!

"Sir, I strongly suggest that you …" Batman couldn't finish his sentence.

"There is a time and place for fighting, and this isn't it," the man said in an even and almost emotionless voice.

"He's right about that. C'mon, you can try to cuff me later," piped up the madman.

Batman stood there frowning. The evening had gone quiet and it was bothering him, but he couldn't concentrate on that at the moment.

The man had finished preparing his stereo and had dropped the needle onto the record. The familiar heartbeat of _Speak to Me_ was coming out of the speakers. With the experience of a thousand battles against the Joker, the caped hero knew that his arch enemy could act completely randomly at times. Apparently this time he had decided he wanted to listen to Pink Floyd.

Batman wanted nothing more than to continue the fight. He was sure he'd manage to haul the Joker back to Arkham tonight! However, it was the knowledge of that random nature that stopped the hero. " _Who knows what tricks he still has up his sleeves? I really don't want to risk the life of a bystander."_ So, he sat down on the sofa … as far away from the Joker as possible and slightly sideways, so he could keep the villain under watch at all times.

The Joker, on the other hand, seemed completely content. He was sprawling comfortably, grinning and nodding in time with the music. Similarly relaxed, their "host" was in the armchair with his eyes closed.

When the chimes at the beginning of _Time_ started, the Joker giggled, "He, heh … dingle, dingle, dingle!"

When _The Great Gig in the Sky_ came, he even hummed along, apparently remembering the melody.

For many minutes the scene remained the same. The only movement was when their odd host got up to turn the record over.

Shortly before the end of the album the strange man got up and left the room.

"How rude," commented the Joker. "He didn't even say goodnight!"

He noticed the dark, looming presence to the side.

"Heh … I guess music time is over, eh Bats?"

The night had started out normal enough, then taken a turn for the strange and eventually for the worst. The Joker managed to escape.

Several days later, Batman was fuming. Not only was the Joker missing, but he was constantly thinking about the weird man with the Pink Floyd record.

Who was he?

More importantly, why had he stopped him from taking the madman?

Even better: why the _**hell**_ had Batman agreed?

There was something bizarre going on here and he intended to find out what. Maybe that unremarkable looking man was working for the Joker.

For several days however he couldn't do much about it. In Gotham, it was apparently open season for all possible criminals. He had busted three drug dealing groups, an illegal gambling house, a brothel, a smuggling operation for weapons and countless small-time crooks.

For several days he constantly thought about the strange fellow and even dreamed of him. Batman couldn't draw if his life depended on it, but that unremarkable face was so ingrained in his mind, that he could have recreated it almost perfectly. He had done so, in fact, on his computer. But while waiting for the face recognition software to produce results, he decided he should visit the man.

That's how he found himself on that balcony again.

" _Something is wrong here."_ He could feel it. Even before entering the room he had seen that it was completely empty. Gone were the sofa and armchair. No stereo, no paintings. The room was completely bare. Moving carefully through the door, Batman found the whole apartment desolate. It looked like nobody had lived there for a long time.

" _It's not impossible that that night was a setup. I never did get to look around the place much."_

Exiting the apartment, he made his way down the stairs to the entrance of the building. Fortunately, there was a porter there. He was watching the door so when Batman tapped him on the shoulder, the man spun around startled. He became downright panicked when he saw the dark knight. He stepped back, almost tripping on his feet.

"Crikey man. You're liable to give a bloke a heart attack!"

"What can you tell me about apartment 75B."

"Empty place. Wh … Why do you want to know about it?"

"Three or four days ago there must have been activity there and this man was involved."

Batman pulled out a small notepad and showed the porter the computer-generated portrait of the strange man.

"N … Not possible … ah … sir. You see, I've worked here for five years. That bloke there lived in 75B. I remember him. Frank Norton. Neighbours were complaining of loud music. Three years ago he disappeared. No trace. I remember the newspapers … a-and when the haulers came for all his junk. Flat's been empty ever since. No one's been there. I've the only keys here."

He pulled out a set of keys from his desk and displayed them to the hero.

Batman grumbled a "thank you" and quickly left. Now that he had a name the image in his mind was even more solid.

He went back to examine the place. His findings largely proved the porter's story. The front door had been locked (he'd had to use his lockpick the first time around) but that proved nothing. The state of the apartment was another story. Undisturbed cobwebs lined all windows, except the broken one. The dust looked undisturbed, save for his footprints. No one had been here in a long time.

When he got back to the manor, he discovered that the computer had produced results. The same name, Frank Norton, with all the appropriate personal data. It confirmed the porter's story: missing without a trace. He had been a loner, so it was presumed he had killed himself. There was even a photo in one of the newspapers featuring the porter he had talked to and some surly looking men. They were loading into a truck the same large stereo console he had listened to that strange evening. The article said that a year after Norton's disappearance, his possessions had been sold off in a charity auction.

Further, the face recognition program had no results to display. Batman had a connection to the Justice League network, so his machine had access to vast amounts of data. He checked the timeframe of the last three years. Even with the resources available, there were no hits.

In a slightly desperate bid, Batman decided to run a quick check on his blood for the several toxins Joker was known to use. The idea was that maybe the whole occurrence was some sort of a hallucination. No luck there either, as the analysis came out clean.

The man truly was missing.

Eventually, the Joker did resurface.

One evening, a week after discovering the name Frank Norton, Batman got an emergency call from Commissioner Gordon.

"Get down to the GCPD, right now! The Joker is here, with a handful of laughing gas grenades and 'Batman' on his mouth. He wants to speak to you."

"Any hostages?"

"No, but if he sets off one of those grenades, we're all goners here!"

Before James Gordon could finish that last sentence, Batman was moving. Later, when analyzing the events, he would find that he had set a new personal record for responding to a call.

The scene at the central police station was tense, to say the least. Guns were out, pointing at the Joker. The villain was pacing to and fro, muttering under his breath. The Joker always looked crazy, as was his style, after all. This evening, however, he looked even wonkier than usual.

When he saw Batman, he immediately began shouting at him.

"What did you do? What did you do? I can't get him out of my head! How did you put him in there?"

"What are you talking about?"

The Joker seemed not to have heard him.

"He's in my head! My head is my own! Nobody goes in there without my permission. And my dreams! He is speaking to me, relentlessly … AAAH! I thought I liked Pink Floyd, but hearing those songs every night … it's driving me bonkers!"

"You already are bonkers," someone piped up from the cops.

Batman flinched inwardly at those words, but there was no reaction from the Joker again.

"I can't get that blasted face out of my mind and his music! It's your fault, Bats!"

Panting heavily, he finally ended his rant. There was complete and utter silence. Batman finally made to respond.

"I did not make you see him, Joker. You're the one usually inducing hallucinations, not I," he said calmly.

The Joker looked confused for a while, as if the meaning of what was said eluded him completely. Finally his face sparkled with realization.

"Ha! You said 'him'. YOU SAID 'HIM'," he bellowed.

Batman realized his mistake all too late. He had been so preoccupied with that face, that he had let it slip into his words.

"You know who I'm talking about, oh yeees," continued the Joker. "He's in your mind too, isn't he? That strange, average face, with hair gray at the temples and that small mole on his left cheek! I know him, you know him. THEY ALL KNOW HIM! HAAAHAHAH!"

After his laughter had died down, he looked tired, forlorn and deflated. No trademark grin and hunched shoulders. He looked around at the gathered cops and finally at Batman.

"Look, Bats, I'm calling this an evening," he said slowly, and without his usual bluster.

Everyone was stunned when he started for the door. Gordon gathered his wits and shouted, "Are we simply going to let him get away?"

"Remember, Commissioner, he still has the grenades with him," reminded Batman, calmly.

"Hey Gordon," the Joker shouted over his shoulder, "relax. The only thing I plan to do tonight is to find a bottle of whiskey and try to drown myself in it. Maybe that'll keep him out."

The last words were said in a murmur, as if he were speaking to himself. He left quietly.

"Christ, what was that all about," asked Gordon. "Who were you two talking about? Dreams … and music? I need an explanation _now_ , Batman."

With everyone staring at him, Batman knew there was no getting out of this one. He grimaced and reluctantly, and as simply as possible, told the story of that bizarre evening, then the little he knew about Frank Norton. Everyone sat in silence for a minute after he finished.

Timidly one officer raised his hand, as if asking for attention. Attention was given to him, alright. Everyone stared. The man flinched a bit but managed to find his strength and started talking.

"Batman, that face Joker described … I've seen it too, or at least someone similar to that description. When I'm asleep at night. For the past week."

Batman raised an eyebrow at this. The situation was beginning to look stranger with each passing minute. He took out his notepad, selected the file with Norton's face and showed it to the officer. The man nodded with certainty. Batman passed the device to the next person.

"Has anyone else seen this face while sleeping in the past few days?"

As the image made the rounds, more and more people raised their hands … more than half of the crowd. Eventually even Commissioner Gordon did.

"Well, that's just peachy," the Commissioner commented sourly. "Any plans, Batman?"

"Unfortunately," the hero replied gruffly, "dealing with dreams is somewhat beyond my abilities. However, I know where to ask."

"Don't let me stop you then," said Gordon. "This whole situation is giving me the creeps."

 **End note:**

Special thanks to Concolor44, who agreed to be the beta reader for this story. If you haven't read his works, go do it ASAP. You're missing out on a real treat.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Strange Case of Frank Norton**

 **Author's note:** I don't own anything in this story, except for the general plot.

 **Chapter 2**

The JLA Tower was a completely different place from the Watchtower, which was the coordination centre for all the tactical operations. As a result, it was a far more popular destination, where tourists clamoured to go on a visit once a month.

Just as important as the Tower was the HQ Central, however not nearly as trendy. It was where most of the administrative work for the JLA was done. An organization so wide-spread and varied required a dazzling amount of paperwork. This was also the reason why Batman disliked it. He had very little patience for the bumbling fools that most accountants were. Yet it was where he needed to be. Yesterday, when he had contacted J'onn J'onzz, the Martian had informed him that he'd be here today.

Walking through the corridors in a full set of black-as-night armour, it was as if a conqueror was walking through a new land. Chartered accountants either looked after him in awe, or cowered away like mice.

His brooding walk was, however, interrupted by a most peculiar meeting. Out of one of the side passages was coming Raven. Now that was an interesting person. At first Batman had been highly distrustful of her, with her heritage and all. Within the confines of his mind, he was even willing to admit that she scared him. Over the past years, however, he'd grudgingly had to change his opinion of the girl. A number of selfless deeds with the Titans, as well as the way she had handled her Father had, actually, managed to sway the dark knight's mind somewhat. As it was, he neither liked nor disliked her.

So wrapped in her own thoughts she was that she hadn't noticed him yet. He decided to greet her.

"Hello, Raven. An unusual place for you to be."

She turned towards him. While uncovered by her cloak, her face betrayed no emotion, so he couldn't decide if she was startled at his appearance or not.

"Batman." She gave him a nod. "I know it is. I was made to come here."

He cocked his head slightly to the side, in a gesture of asking for a more detailed explanation. The girl sighed.

"I might as well get it out. You'll probably find out anyway. On our last mission, we had to work with Zatanna. The interaction between her and me was not … civil," she ground out. "As a result, Robin made me come here and make amends with her. Either that, or spend the next twenty years on laundry duty."

"A truly horrifying prospect," the dark knight deadpanned.

Wonder of wonders. From what Batman had read about her, Raven was a very introverted person. At the beginning, right after joining the Teen Titans, she barely talked to them. Interaction with outsiders was almost non-existent, too. That she was willing to volunteer this much information to a person she did not know well on a personal level … well, she truly had grown up.

"What of you, darkest of all heroes? I can feel the distaste and concern rolling off of you in waves and they are not aimed at me," she said.

The tall hero harrumphed. Looking at the empath, he was considering whether or not to let her in on what was bothering him. Taking care to rein in his emotions, he quickly reached a decision.

"Perhaps it's a good thing that I met you. You're an accomplished sorceress. You may be able to assist me."

He raised a hand to forestall any further comments by the girl.

"Let's find J'onn J'onzz first. I'd prefer not having to tell the same story twice."

She nodded and made to follow him. In the meantime thoughts were buzzing in her head.

" _Curious. At first he meant to speak only with the Martian. In general, J'onn does not work with magic, so it might be something psychic related. When he saw me, a sorceress, as he put it, he decided to broaden his definition of the problem a bit. Now he thinks that magic might be involved as well. A very curious case indeed_."

Working on that train of thought, she walked beside Batman. Eventually the two reached one of the smaller work rooms. It was empty, save for the tall, green man, typing on one of the computers. At their entrance, the Martian Manhunter turned around. She could feel the slight confusion wafting from him, when he saw her. However, when Batman simply greeted him, he apparently decided not to comment on her presence. Batman took one of the neighbouring chairs; she picked another.

"What did you want to speak to me about, Batman?" the Martian asked.

"I am faced with a case that seems beyond my abilities to deal with."

J'onn and Raven looked at each other. Even though their faces were largely impassive, their disbelief at Batman's words was clear. Batman, on his part, gave them his best possible evil eye, daring them to comment.

Then he started talking. About the usual evening of Joker-hunting, about the strange, unremarkable man by the name of Frank Norton, his disappearance, how he had managed to pacify them both. He left no details out, including his own dreams and what Joker had told him. As proud and capable as he was, he knew his limits. Early on he had decided to rely on J'onn's experience with the psychic; and now on Raven's too. He left nothing out, on account of the fact that he couldn't decide what might turn out to be important.

For a moment after Batman finished talking, both listeners were quiet. It was the Martian that broke the silence.

"I am familiar with this phenomenon. Over the past days, several people from the staff at the Watchtower have talked to me about a plain-looking man in their dreams. Some of them reported that he was speaking to them. There may be more people … hmm … afflicted … but they have not come forward. Also, I have not been able to detect any unauthorized presence at the Tower."

While he was saying this, Raven got up, went to one of the computers and started typing. Both heroes looked at her and waited, but when an explanation did not come immediately, Batman cleared his throat, rather annoyed.

"There is a connection between Batman, the Joker, the people of Gotham and the staff at the Watchtower," she said. "But what about others? A lot of people share their thoughts on the Internet. Look at these." She invited the two men to inspect the screen.

Several open forum threads showed reports of strange dreams, more often than not involving the music of Pink Floyd. There were sketches too; Norton's face, that Batman had showed them only minutes earlier.

"A cursory glance showed me at least ten other, unrelated sites, describing the same thing. We're talking about hundreds, maybe thousands of people across the world. And this is only a search in English."

Stunned silence reigned for a minute. Batman was the first to find his voice.

"How can such a thing be done?"

"I have some vague ideas," answered the Martian, "but nothing that will be immediately helpful."

"I know where to look," announced Raven, "if you'd wait for me here."

Without giving them time to reply, her soulself erupted and engulfed her. When it disappeared, the girl was gone as well.

She came back, about twenty minutes later, to find the two men watching a news report on the computer. Apparently the leader of North Korea had died a sudden and inexplicable death. Raven thought it a mildly interesting event, but not terribly important at the moment.

When Batman and J'onn looked up at her arrival, they saw she was holding a large, dusty old book. The dark knight wondered why the girl would bring some arcane tome of knowledge, when she knew that he and J'onn likely couldn't read the strange language.

When she opened it on the table between them, he saw that it was indeed an old magical text, but one written in what appeared to be Latin. The script, however, was barely legible.

"I'll give you the short version," Raven announced. "Both of you are familiar with interdimensional travel, right?"

Both men nodded agreement. It wasn't something done daily, or even once in a while, but interdimensional travel was possible.

"This," she said, indicating the book, "is a translation of an ancient Sumerian text. I wish I had the original as this copy is rather crude, but it will serve our purpose."

She turned the pages to a simple diagram: three parallel lines, crossed diagonally by a fourth one.

She pointed at the parallel lines. "These are the different dimensions of the normal world. The line crossing them is what, I believe, we are after. The World of Dreams. The text refers to it as a 'slightly distorted mirror image'."

The two men shared the same incredulous expression.

"Don't look at me like that," she admonished them. "It does exist. It's a subject that I've been interested in for quite a long time. One thing this fragment is not clear on is whether there is one, all-encompassing dream world, or if each dimension has its own reflection." She pointed to the crossing point between the diagonal line and the others. "My own research has led me to the conclusion that the latter is true. There is a separate dream world, for each dimension."

"Your own research?" drawled Batman. "You've visited this dream world, have you?"

"I have. On more than one occasion." She looked at him almost defiantly.

Batman harrumphed. His opinion of the girl went down somewhat. " _Obviously a dangerous thing to do and she's done it more than once without any supervision. It's not that she isn't capable, but what if an accident had happened?"_

"What else can you tell us of this place?"

"It's an interesting thing. You see, when people dream, they create their own, personal dream. It's under their command entirely. From that dream, one may enter the Dream World, usually by accident. That is a completely different place, with its own rules. You can still manipulate the reality, provided you want to, but it takes more willpower, and the effects aren't usually very big. Most importantly, it's deadly. If you lose control … an 'epic fail' as some say … and you expire there, you do so in the real world as well."

Emotionless as she was, to an observant eye, her enthusiasm was evident. She was speaking with the passion of a scholar for his favourite subject. Or maybe a collector about his hobby.

"How does one enter that place willingly?" Batman probed further. "And more importantly, how can you influence the dreams of so many people at the same time?"

"Entering sounds easy, but it isn't. You have to concentrate your thoughts on the Dream World, while you're falling asleep. As for the influence, I don't know. I've never tried manipulating something as vast as the dreams of other people," Raven elaborated.

"J'onn, have you heard anything about that world?" Batman turned to the Martian. "You mentioned something before."

The Martian thought for a moment then began slowly. "There are stories. Long ago, among my people, there were …" He stopped as if looking for the right word. "… 'priests' would be appropriate to call them. It is said that they could walk the dreams of others and read signs in them about events past, present and future. That particular type of worship died out gradually with the development of our technology. I know of nothing more."

While they had been talking, Raven had again ignored them and was buried in the book, reading intently.

Batman prodded her. "Anything else worth sharing?"

"Dreamers." The word hung in the air, while she finished the paragraph. "What you said, J'onn J'onzz, reminded me of this. It says here that there are people with a rather rare talent for entering the World of Dreams completely. It's not clear whether the author means in the flesh, or something else. What is clear, however, is that such people have much greater control over that world."

"Wonderful," ground out Batman. "We have a man, with enormous power at his disposal. We have no idea what he's planning to do and hardly any way to reach him and stop him."

"You are quick to judge, my friend," said the Martian. "Think of this: what Raven just told us is not common information. We may be dealing with a confused man, who has no idea what is happening with him."

"Be that as it may," the dark knight replied, still frowning, "his actions are possibly extremely dangerous and we have to do something about it."

Raven chose that moment to speak again. "What we can do is enter the Dream World and look for Norton there. Using the method described here, anyone with sufficient mental fortitude and an orderly mind should be able to enter that place. I think that both of you, gentlemen, satisfy those rules. Or am I wrong?"

Batman definitely did not like being challenged by a seventeen-year-old girl. He had narrowed his eyes dangerously and was about to reply, when J'onn spoke with a slight smirk. "I believe we will be able to do it, Raven."

"Good," she nodded. "First piece of advice: when we attempt this we should be in our own beds. Comfortable environment usually helps with the concentration. Second: in the dream world, you can cover colossal distances with nary a thought. When you enter, I suggest we meet in front of this building to confer."

"Shall we do this tonight?" J'onn asked.

"Tomorrow night," Batman shot out. It wasn't clear whether he had a particular reason for this, or if he was simply surly at being treated like a student. Either way, the two others agreed.

 **End note:**

Whoever recognizes where I borrowed this particular concept for a dream world, without searching in Google, gets a cookie.


End file.
